Memories of Winter
by Mandy of the Amoeba
Summary: Songfic to "Winter" by Tori Amos. She owns the song, I don't. Oh, and this is about Minerva, in case anyone was wondering...


A/N: Okay, I'm on a Tori Amos songfic kick.  Just bear with me til I get this out of my system....this is a fic about Minerva's relationship with her father. Sort of. It's a REALLY crappy fic, and it has no plot......so...yeah, it's pretty boring. If you STILL choose to read it, then nice reviews and constructive criticism will be appreciated. Flames will be used to.....um....I don't know. I can't think of a creative use for fire at the moment.  
  
  
_  
  
Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens   
Wipe my nose, get my new boots on  
I get a little warm in my heart  
When I think of winter   
I put my hand in my father's glove_  
  
  
Minerva had a happy childhood, although her adult attitude towards life often seemed so practical and stern that many people thought that perhaps she had been raised in a very strict, structured environment.  Truth be told, she never had much discipline as a child.  Her mother died when she was just a baby, so she was raised by her father.  He was a carefree, whimsical sort of fellow, full of dreams and ideas, and he loved his daughter more than anything else in the world.  However, it hadn't been easy for him to raise a little girl on his own.  
  
She still remembered certain cold winter days....they often had deep snowfalls around her home in Scotland, and her father would always take her out to play in the white wonderland.  It was wonderful to be so blissfully unaware of the troubles in the world around her then.  She was a happy child, and the issues that faced people other than herself and her father didn't affect her in the least.  Innocence.  Something none of us can ever regain once it's been lost.  
  
_  
I run off where the drifts get deeper   
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown   
I hear a voice,  
"You must learn to stand up  
For yourself cause I can't always be around"   
_  
  
Innocent or not, she had been taught the importance of life from the very beginning.  Her father was careful to remind her, over and over, that he could be taken from her suddenly, just as her mother was.  Despite his outwardly carefree attitude, he had a strong paranoia of leaving his daugher alone and unprepared for the world.  He made sure she knew how to take care of herself in case the need arose, and she didn't mind this at first.  After all, he was her father, and she trusted everything he'd ever told her.  But as she grew older, his constant teachings and reminders caused a small seed of resent to grow in her heart.   
  
_  
He says,  "When you gonna make up your mind?  
When you gonna love you as much as I do?  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
'Cause things are gonna change so fast   
All the white horses are still in bed  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change, my dear."_  
  
  
The resent continued to grow, slowly at first.  She became interested in her studies, and her father's lack of discpline annoyed her.  After a time, she craved structure and order, instead of the laid-back lifestyle she had always known.  This rejection of her father's lifestyle led to a basic rejection of the man himself, although she knew it stung him deeply.  She was a growing girl, and her opinions about life and the world in general kept changing rapidly.  Change was something her father hated; change was unpredictable and could cause unhappiness, another thing that he couldn't stand for.  This fear of change kept him from realizing his dreams, and his lack of ambition irritated Minerva greatly.  
  
_  
Boys get discovered as winter melts  
Flowers competing for the sun   
Years go by and I'm here still waiting   
Withering where some snowman was   
_  
  
After she went away to Hogwarts, she didn't have much time to spend with her father anymore.  Between trying to keep a balanced social life and keeping up with her studies, she was constantly busy, and her old life seemed as little more than a dream to her.  She was more interested in being the best at everything else than being a good daughter.  
  
Now, watching her present-day students act the way she had acted then, it all seemed trivial and silly.  How foolish all the young witches seemed, trying to be the prettiest flower and win the hearts of the boys.  The pretty ones weren't always the ones to end up as wives; Minerva learned that lesson too late.  She had been pretty in her youth, one of the prettiest girls in her class.  Her beauty had caused boys to think she was unreachable, the unattainable girl, so they had simply not tried.  So she was alone as she grew older, still waiting for the prince that would never come.  
  
_  
Mirror, mirror, where's the crystal palace?  
But I only can see myself   
Skating around the truth  
Who I am  
But I know, Dad the ice is getting thin  
_  
  
Now, she deeply regretted leaving her father the way she did.  Part of it was done unconsciously; first as a student, and then as a Professor, she was too busy to realize that she was leaving dear old Dad behind.  Still, the deed was done, and there was no way to go back and fix things now.  She had gotten angry with him, hoping her chiding could make him become more ambitious, hoping to help him make something of his life.  Yet her efforts had failed.    
  
_  
He says when you gonna make up your mind?  
When you gonna love you as much as I do?  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
'Cause things are gonna change so fast   
All the white horses are still in bed  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change, my dear  
  
Hair is grey and the fires are burning  
So many dreams on the shelf  
You say, "I wanted you to be proud of me."  
I always wanted that myself   
_  
  
He had grown old before she realized what had happened.  At his death bed, she still remembered his last words.... "I'm sorry, Minnie.  I wanted you to be proud of me."  She couldn't make a reply, not one suitable to say to a dying man, and then he was gone, leaving her with no second chance.  All his ideas and dreams were left unlived, and yet...he had died relatively happy, with only that one last regret.  Minerva had fulfilled the greater part of her dreams, but she was never quite sure whether she was happy or not.  And she knew she had too many regrets...  
_  
  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
When you gonna love you as much as I do?  
When you gonna make up your mind?  
'Cause things are gonna change so fast   
All the white horses have gone ahead  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change, my dear...  
    _  
      
Regrets and remorse will get you no where.  That was something she  always believed.  The only thing left for her is winter, and so after every snowfall, she places flowers on his grave, the bright splash of color vibrant against the white background, her mind made up a lifetime too late.  
  
  



End file.
